


The Devil's Workshop

by Larua



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch (Overwatch) - Freeform, F/F, Overwatch - Freeform, Overwatch References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larua/pseuds/Larua
Summary: When scientist Moira O'deorain is hired into an Overwatch facility some tensions root and hold the prospect of blooming. The intention of her work seems palpable but underlining curiosity may surface more than originally intended! What will happen when two brilliant minds unabashedly clash?





	1. Idle Hands

Incredulous whispers filled the sleek and abundantly sanitary corridors of one particular sector of the Overwatch facility. For weeks prior the murmurings of Moira O’Deorain’s arrival remained nothing more than hearsay but when such prospects bled into reality that skeptical air quickly changed. Curiosity was piqued, questions that’d never meet an answer bubbled to the surface by many but one fact remained true; Dr. O’Deorain’s work was prudent. 

The morning of her arrival was dreary at best. The skies perpetually clung to a tedious grey overcast as if all semblance of their life had been drained by an unseen hand, yet on occasion the sun found refuge. Only for a breath did the firmament break to welcome some semblance of the sun’s warmth before suffocating behind a canopy of dark clouds once more. 

Every splash of rain bounced off the sleek dome of Angela Ziegler’s umbrella, the ivory make of her lab coat wrapped tautly about her meager frame to huddle in her warmth as she waited for the new hire's arrival. The long stretch of the landing pad was accompanied by various shells of light, each bright and uninterrupted blink of tawny yellow and neon orange reflected within the puddles strewn about the landing pad, rippling into submission as the rain continued to fall. 

Angelia gnawed against her lower lip as she, for the fourth time, took a glance down to the simple watch wrapped about the slender curve of her wrist. Annoyance was seldom a look that clung to Dr. Ziegler’s mien but as the small hand reached six she found her stalwart patience beginning to thin. 

“Verdamnt!” The woman tsk’d beneath a visible breath as she wedged the stem of the umbrella against the bend of her arm, thoroughly dipping it low as to better shield her head from the assault of rain. Fitting her finger against a device wedged within her ear a strained click wheeze from the grey colored object, in a matter of moments a heady blue glow touched at its corners, prompting white noise to fill her space until a low, inquisitive voice prompted her query. “This is Angelia Ziegler on the roof waiting for our eight thirty arrival. I’m afraid the rain isn’t leading up and our guest is MIA. Could you get communication with our airship and see what the problem is?”

Save for the prattle of rain against the dome above her head she was left in relative silence as she absorbed the information given to her. The corners of her jaw tensed and with an annoyed tap she cut the operator off and swiftly turned on heel, marching with wet clicks toward the steel lined door leading back into the facility. 

The fervor of her gait was measured by how firmly her heels clicked against the polished linoleum flooring winding down the various, dizzy corridors till finally arriving at one particular door. With a tiny, pallid fist clenched tight she issued several definitive knocks against the face of the door, her pause met with the idle dripping of water from the hem of her lab coat till the door clicked and eased open.  
“Dr. Ziegler?” A surprised Jack Morrison inquired, his frame nearly dwarfing that of Angelia’s. His presumably well kempt hair was disheveled as if ruffled one too many times, his sleeves rolled up just to the bend of his elbow in a manner which implied he only recently done so. A thickened blonde brow met her steamy countenance as she bore up to his with a firm narrow clinging to the corners of her brows and eyes. 

“They’re here? Already?” Angela huffed petulantly as she pushed her hair back by the comb of her fingers, clearly out of habit by the way she seemed unbothered at them falling back into place. “I was waiting in the rain, Jack. The rain. For far long than one should given the tempe---“

“I’m sorry.” The commander leaned forward, cutting her off as he stepped over the threshold to better address his company before slowly easing the door shut just enough to leave a crack. Unbeknownst to Angelina the pressure of Jack’s grip against the doors handle grew tighter and tighter to the point his knuckles began to bleed white. To his credit, he managed to keep himself composed. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was told you were told they arrived much earlier in the morning and not by our escort. Tactical error, Doc.”

Per his habitual candor Angelia met his lackluster apology before finally lifting a hand toward his chest where it met the firm nudge of her finger. “You owe me.” She hissed, ensuring she stab her finger once or twice more against his sore spot before relieving him of his paltry punishment. “I will still do well by my duty and greet our new scientist.” Despite it all Angelina’s face bled into a welcoming smile, one laden with the warmth of her disposition. “Where might our new scientist be, commander?” 

\----

The space afforded to Moira O’deorain was generous at best. The windows were fashioned from floor to ceiling revealing the vast stretch of the compound but it wasn’t to her liking. Nothing was to her liking. The lights overhead beamed down too brightly reflecting off the floor in a manner which caused her temples to throb, the sleek polish of the stainless steel countertops attested even more to that encroaching pulsation but it did little to hinder her production.

For hours the willowy scientist directed her assistants in the early dawn, each of which carried an array of containers laden with various baubles and vials. Some were stored away in the arrangement of cupboards and shelves whereas others were left atop the counters and tables.

Standing within the center of her work space Moira fit her chin between the slender lengths of her fingers, those heterochromia hues scanning about till they landed to one corner of the room. “There.” The woman’s voice finally filtered, breaching the pithy tension that clung to the air by those unfamiliar with her company. “When they arrive I’d like all my glassware in that corner.” A sharp look met those present as if any other answer than ‘yes’ would not suffice.

Wordlessly her assistants nodded with acknowledgement all but one scattering like ants once Moira gave a swift dismissive flick of her wrist. Inhaling contently through her nose she took time to slowly make her rounds about the area, occasionally allowing her fingers to gently glide against the surface of her workspace only to rub her thumb and forefinger together as if testing its sanitation. The sensation against her skin caused her seemingly passive mien to bleed into a rictus of repulsion. “The state of this place.” Moira commented aloud seemingly to no one, her attention wrested only when a gentle knock tailored against the clear twin doors of her workspace. 

Without pause the sole assistant swiftly arrived to the doors and promptly slid them open to address a semi-soaked Angelia Ziegler who in turn stood proudly and contently, a smile stuck to her face as if it was purely out of habit. It was a wonder her skin didn’t crack. From where she stood Moira heard nothing but the vague introduction of one pointless person to another. Content with envisioning her workspace she stood with her back to the door, hands clasped against the small of her back while the two conducted their hollow conversation. It fell on deaf ears. 

“Hello!” A jovial voice called from her flank, readily ripping the scientist from her reverie. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Sir!” Standing a respectful distance back the good doctor kept her pace by extending over an expectant hand only to have its firmness waver once Moira paid a cursory glance over her shoulder, landing the pinprick of her eye firmly into that of Angela’s. It caused Dr. Ziegler to gasp audibly, a flourish of pink surfacing against the apples of her cheeks once the embarrassment of her error came to light. Sir? Truly she was mistaken given Moira’s tall and lean stature. 

“I’m working.” Drawled Moira as she promptly retuned her attention back toward the vast canopy that was her office space window, the only indication of her irritation evidenced by the manner her fingers rubbed against the curvature of her wrist. Silence fell between the pair, one content in the looming quiet while the other dropped her gaze toward the floor as if chasing a thought. 

An iota of thought tickled the tip of Angela’s tongue yet whatever semblance of addendum dared to make its way forward was then readily clipped by another knock of interruption at the door. Quick in her glance her eyes pinned to the entryway where several workers stood, one of which hoisting a rather weak looking man draped in military garb. A daunting lethargy clung beneath Gabriel Reyes’s eyes, his once firm and defined cheeks nearly hallowed, lips cracked and dried and every blue vein visible against the seemingly pallid, ghostly make of his skin.

It was ghastly enough that it caused Angela to clasp both hands against her mouth shoving back a gasp in the process while those stormy blues widened with horrified bewilderment. “Gabriel?” She finally managed to mutter once her hands lowered back limply to her sides. 

Without preamble Moira turned about to regard the collective, her countenance placid enough that it caused Gabriel to smirk up toward her, offering a weak lift of his fingers in greeting. “I was under the impression you’d be arriving later this evening. I suppose no time is like the present.” Gesturing with an upturned palm Moira indicates one of the medical beds before anchoring her steely sights onto Angela.  
“Authorized personnel.” Lifting her sights she wordlessly signaled Angela’s departure. “Please ensure the door is firmly shut upon your departure, Dr. Ziegler. Now, Mr. Reyes. What hot mess have you found yourself in today?” Sarcastic amusement clung briefly to her tone as she guided the weak soldier to the hovering medical bed as Angela reluctantly made her exit, pausing at the door to spare another look toward the group before departing, ensuring the door was shut to Moira’s liking before the echo of her heels disappeared down the hallway.


	2. Tempest Hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks after their initial meeting the storm continues to brew, threatening the power of the Overwatch facility. Moira and Angela happen upon one another, sparking a rather controversial set of accusations.

The rain barely subsided weeks after Moira’s arrival. For a time she enjoyed the way the rain seeped down the length of those massive office windows in clear unwavering washes, impeding upon the meager lighting filling her personal quarters. She sat at her desk stationed within the center of the room, a single lamp pooling a jagged strike of light across a myriad of paperwork while she stared across the way in silent contemplation anchoring her gaze toward the twin doors of her office. The slender curl of her fingers wedged between one another to mask a rather curious coil possessing the corners of her mouth while chasing a thought---a fleeting thought laden with the horrified image of Angela’s Ziegler’s face. It was enough to pique that grin to grow. Flicking her eyes askance she noted the time and gradually leaned back within her seat issuing a languid stretch of her long, willowy arms above her head. The bright red numbers of the hour seared her mind prompting her to finally leave her dwelling reluctantly. 

The hallways and corridors were as pristine and sanitary of that of a hospital, sans that sickly smell which happened to cling to any infirmary’s walls. In some way she smelled of it. The fear of death. Why was that? Her mind brimmed with unempirical queries as she made her rounds toward the kitchens. The facility was always quiet around this time of morning leaving her uninterrupted and when the workers bees arrived to the hive they knew best to leave Moira to her own devices. Such was the idea but her quarters were ill equipped, perhaps a notion fashioned by her superiors to force some semblance of interaction between her and her co-workers. The drive to caffeinate overpowered Moira’s need for isolation so perhaps it was her lack of coherency that caught her off kilter when she rounded the corner into an unsuspecting patron.

A gentle albeit surprised gasp cut the silence of her space like a jagged dirk slipping effortlessly through sinew. Her eyes dropped down like a rock settling to the equally tired countenance of Angela Ziegler. Far less horrified than their last encounter though fitted with a smidgen of aggravation until she finally registered who exactly it was she happened upon. 

Angela stood with most of her weight pressed to her right leg, her hair bundled messily as it always was with those petulant strands falling before her face. She adorned her habitual ivory lab coat though this time a gold pin was set against its collar---perhaps an indicator that it belonged to her. A simple blouse buttoned to the second last clung appropriately to whatever aspects of her form was visible on account of that lab coat. She looked crestfallen, evidenced by the dark rings clinging to the underside of her eyes, down casting their genial glow.

“Ms. O’Deorian.” She greeted plainly before quickly stepping to the side as if to pass, halted only by the flat of Moira’s palm meeting her shoulder. Angela’s eyes quickly fell to that pallid hand, making a point in keeping her attention to it before daring to settle her attention elsewhere. Their eyes met and locked.

“Ms. Ziegler.” Moira greeted in that thick lilt prompting Angela to visibly swallow. An action which caught Moira’s consideration in the manner her mouth contracted into wordless vaunting. “Color has managed to find your features once again.” She added, lowering her hand once a rather firm look met her regard. 

“I can only assume you’re referring to the other week with Gabriel.” She imploded pointedly. “What exactly happened?” 

Moira released her ghost of a touch from Angela’s shoulder and pressed the tips of her fingers along her temple, issuing a soft roll of her digits as if banishing an ache. “Perhaps this would be better suited after I’ve acquired some caffeine?” 

Angela’s lips twisted in an incredulous manner before grudgingly turning, stepping aside with a waft of an upturned palm indicating the direction of the kitchens. Nodding, Moira proceeded. Her gait measured in stride and the clack of her shoes following in tandem with that of Angela’s though hers carried far more gently. 

The faint buzz of the florescent lights overhead seemed to be their only company till they flickered and wavered. Both women turned their attention skyward, halting at the center of the corridor underneath those flickering lights before dropping their sights back to one another. 

“What did you do to Gabriel?” Angela asserted, folding her arms across her chest as if displaying her petulance made her any larger. “He hasn’t been seen in weeks. Not since his time with you.” Her accusatory tone only teased Moira’s features all the more.

“And what it is exactly you’re accusing me of?” Moira bargained in that habitual, non-committal drawl. She stepped forward, her lean frame practically towering over the other woman, readily blocking out the light from that flickering bulb overhead. It was enough to shadow the left portion of her face, leaving that bright eye to bare down unapologetically. Again, Angela swallowed. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Ms. O’Deorain. I’m simply asking a quest---“

Moira unabashedly chided, offering a faint shake of her head as she ticked a slender index back and forth akin to scolding a child. “With the underlining tone of a person keen on placing some sort of blame on me. Mr. Reyes’s condition was of no fault of mine but in fact a product of the testing he voluntarily engaged upon his own volition.” She stepped forward again, prompting Angela to do the same albeit opposite of Moira’s approach. The lights flickered once again, this time stretching down the length of their corridor. “So I’ll ask you again. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

The inner flesh of Angela’s lip met the subtle press of an incisor. In truth she wasn’t entirely certain on what she was accusing Moira of but she was confident enough in her hunch to accuse to brazenly. 

“People talk.” Angela lectured, lowering her voice into an almost conspiratorial whisper. “Since you arrived people have been talking. Your work---whatever that is, has people on edge. You’re a brilliant mind that strikes fear in the heart of those she surrounds.”

“Do I frighten you?” The question was enough to snap Angela’s head up, widening her eyes like saucers. “I’ve no quandary if I do. How you or anyone else for that matter perceives me won’t impede on my work. Why should it? We don’t directly work with one another so why does what I do bother you so much?” 

“The manner of your diatribe is laughable, Moira.” The latter left Angela’s mouth venomously, as if finally finding her mettle. “My job is to save lives not ruin them.” A flourish of her wrist indicated Moira’s everything. “You display zero remorse for your actions.”

A loud, chide laden chuckle bubbled from the hearth of Moira’s throat. Low and practically nefarious as she placed the flat of her palm against the wall directly behind Angela, leaving a respectable amount of space between them as Moira craned her neck just so to settle the good doctor with a look.

“What an interesting hypothesis. Have you considered at all for perhaps even a moment that I was hired for a reason? Reasons that maybe, just maybe, you’re not meant to be privy to? You hold no official rank over me, Doctor. I answer to one individual and one individual only. To your pleasure----“ She tapered off, allowing her gaze to rove over Angela’s countenance. “----You aren’t that person and even if you were I’m of the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t much like my company as it were.”

Without further preamble the lights filling their space snapped into darkness with a single pulse, replaced only by a sudden outburst of red lighting from the emergency backup system. What was once pristine white was now basked within crimson. Their space was silent for a time as two pairs of eyes anchored to one another in wordless conflict.

“I don’t want to see anyone I know get hurt on account of your carelessness.” Angela found her voice but it was met with condescendence by the way Moira eased her head aside, akin to predator measuring its prey. 

“Careless?” Moira breathed, coupled with a short lived breathy puff of air by form of a chuckle. “Every action and every thought I conduct is meticulously thought out. I, unlike you, am not a creature of impulse. You’d do well with finding your words before you proclaim such brash pontifications, Ms. Ziegler."

Truth be told Moira’s attention was vaguely fixated on the manner of which Angela’s mouth began to twist with distain. The soft meager plush of her lips catching the red light was something akin to a siren’s call. Strangely, something settled within her, directly at the center of her chest. It almost stung so much so to the point she was certain it’d crack her chest and leave her raw. If she were none the wiser she’d soon be a direct contradiction to her prior claim. 

“I want to believe my suspicions are justified.” Angela breathed, her shoulders hunching slightly with a shrug. “Everyone in your office that day was privy to Gabriel’s drastic change in disposition. You had no part in that but what followed?” Her eyes dropped down to Moira’s chest, tracing the outline of her lab coat all the way up back to her face. “I believe you’re to blame.”

“I saved his life.” Moira hissed, her jaw working to and fro by some display of her mounting aggravation. “A task you clearly weren’t designed to take.” A triumphant rictus took to her features, so much so it pinched at the corners of her eyes. “Tell me, Angela.” She leaned forward, closing the space between them by another increment. “Are you concerned? Or are you perhaps envious of my medical prowess?”

The query hovered between them, tainting the air as Moira’s grin continued perpetually while Angela stood in what could only be garnered at complete shock. A myriad of contemplation filtered through Angela’s mind and for a time she felt the hot sear of cruel words coat the tip of her tongue dangerously. Almost eager to jut out and snap at Moira’s throat.

“Have I said something to offend you, Doctor? One only wonders how that feels like” Listing forward Moira brazenly reached for Angela’s chin curling the length of her skinny fingers around it to perch, forcing those stormy eyes up to regard her properly. “Where’s the spite?”

The aggression of Moira’s grip met the slap of Angela’s hand, though fruitless in nature for Moira’s grip twisted and turned once again to further keep hold of Angela’s chin. 

“No.” The scientist hissed once more. Her hips found purchase against Angela’s, prompting the doctor to jerk her head aside to avoid Moira’s steely gaze. The red light continued to pool around them while the distant sound of failing power hummed and died within the distance. From where they stood they could hear the continuous prattle of rain against the steel roof of the building. “You lack the courage of your convictions.” Moira prodded, pressing her fingers so deeply into Angela’s face it began to squish at her cheeks. 

“Release me.” Angela necessitated. “You’re treading a line.”

“Treading a line?” Moira parroted, her tone laced with amusement. “You’ve crossed that line thrice, Doctor. How will you rectify it?” 

The heat between them became palpable as Moira’s grip tightened all the more for whatever meager worth it was given. It was then Angela reached up for Moira’s wrist, issuing a curl of her fingers about its slender make before attempting to jerk herself free with little to no avail for Moira was persistent. The sound of the distant power failing tapered off into a low, non-committal hum, the red lighting basking over Angela’s countenance became nonexistent the moment she finally paid the doctor’s eyes her full attention. They were stormy, perhaps laden with far more fury than the tempest crashing against the facility outdoors. 

“How fascinating.” Moira breathed. Whatever addendum caught her tongue was cut short as the lighting around them finally died into darkness. Silence filled their space save for the soft breathing of either counterpart. Their visuals officially blind yet that hold against Angela’s grip remained tangible. She could feel Moira’s stance shift, hear the rustle of her coat as she leaned in all the more against Angela. A secondary touch met the slim line of her neck as Moira’s free hand found purchase at the side of Angela’s throat, pressing gently to further guide her against the security of the wall. In that moment she felt unfamiliar lips against hers, Angela’s body tensing with a striking shiver racking down the length of her spine, arresting through her body like electricity till she felt her fingers grow numb. 

The grip issued to Moira’s wrist tightened considerably while the impromptu sensation of her lips pressed all the more against hers. She felt the cold wall against the back of her neck, felt Moira inch closer against her as the unforgiving trail of her tongue finally met the shape of her lower tier. A noise filtered from the depths of Angela’s chest at the various sensations possessing her body all at once. The shape of her brows pinched and for a time she could hear the gradual rise of her heartbeat till it thundered steadily within her ears further prompting her mouth to open by some means of protest. It was filled not by her words but by Moira’s tongue as she sought to deepen their connection. 

“Mfh!” Angela’s vague protest subsided, her grip loosening till her hand found purchase against Moira’s clavicle, her fingers notching to grip against the collar of Moira’s coat tugging the scientist forward to further excavate their mounting quandary. 

Moira’s harsh and angular features pressed gently against Angela’s face, her hands interchanging to grip at either side of her jaw in order to hold her still to better work her lips. Expertly she molded against Angela’s mouth, one pair of plush lips wetting and fighting against the other till a submission of tongues came into effect. Inhaling deeply through her nose Moira hunched forward, pressing a leg between Angela’s thighs to better pin her in place. 

The hot sounds of their conduit persisted through the darkness. Angela’s fingers wove through thick strands of fiery hair, attaining a bundle into her grip to keep Moira in place as her mouth parted wetly from hers. They needed no light for the burning of their locked gaze was whole and true. 

“You’re a monster.” Angela panted, her only form of rejoinder being that of a snicker followed by the heady sensation of Moira capturing her lips against hers once more. Angela gave no protest, instead she welcomed the warm, dominating pursuit of her counterpart.


End file.
